Monthly Archives: March 2014

Welcome to the Family, Son

Listen along if you like…

I’m gonna need you to sit, boy, and hear me out.
I ain’t gonna scream and I aint gonna shout.
I’m gonna tell you a story about my baby girl,

She used to sit in my lap
and make me laugh,
she’d give me a squeeze
when e’er I tipped my hat.
I remember that day
she first called me dad,

And on her sweet 16
she leaned over me,
whispered in my ear,
“Hey Daddy,
I’ll love you til the day that I die.”

That was so long ago,
seemed like yesterday.
When I held her in my arms
and oh – we’d play.
Never thought she’d ever make me cry.

She tells me you’re a good man,
and that you love the Lord,
love your country
and drive a flatbed Ford.
So now I need you to look me in my eye.

You don’t need to speak
if you understand.
just shake your head
like a full grown man.
Then we gonna give this here a little try.

If you ever raise a hand to my baby girl,
you’ll never see a rush of evil in this world
fall upon your ass just as quick as I can.
If you’ve never seen a grisly then eyes wide open,
don’t take chances and never be hoping.
Because you will surely be a dead man.

You’re family now,
and you got my blessin,
I’m gonna love you son
and I ain’t messin…
But always remember this night under this sky

Wish you the best of luck,
’cause now you’re my son,
so take my daughter and
go have fun….
and always know that I’ll keep an open eye…..

.
.
© 2014 John Allen Richter


Bronco Buster

Thanks for visiting…  I hope you enjoy this little song I wrote…  If you’re brave you can listen along to my voice singing it by clicking the button below…

I jumped in my truck
and I drove all night,
lookin for nothing
while nothin seemed right.
figured I’d drive
’til I see the light,
then somthin went
“it just ain’t right…..”

girl you sure complicate me
more than the boys
or the fish in the sea.
You’re the little doe I had in my sights
Why you got to complicate my nights….

Used to roll down with the boys
crackin beers and dodgin chores.
You came along – put away my toys
now it ain’t nothin but trouble for sure.

So you think you can tame this wild assed bear,
this butt bustin bronco jumpin up in the air.
girl I’m just saying you best beware
cause there’s an awful lot of philies out there.

I jumped in my truck
and I drove all night,
lookin for nothing
while nothin seemed right.
figured I’d drive
’til I see the light,
and then somthin went
“it just ain’t right…..”

Now the light never came
so you better know
you’re a sweet little mama
and that’s for sho
But if you don’t let go of that lasso
girl your gonna have to go-go-go…

So you think you can tame this wild assed bear,
this butt bustin bronco jumpin up in the air.
girl I’m just saying you best beware
cause there’s an awful lot of philies out there.

Used to roll down with the boys
crackin beers and dodgin chores.
You came along and put away my toys
now it ain’t nothin but trouble for sure.

.

.
© 2014 John Allen Richter


Cedar Posts

I am.
Withered, yes, and torn,
weathered by century’s storm.
And though my will so frail
be as a windless sail,
I offer this: another tale,
wisely and won’drously worn.

For pray it rings as the mission bell,
beyond the town and yonder dell,
so that children of ours can always tell
that once a dream did live.

And though this world not long for I,
these wrinkled lips but pure disguise
of a childs soul within.
Soon my bones shall lay to rest,
life’s secret left to confess:
It must end to begin again.

And so here I plant my cedar posts,
sturdy and strong for future hosts,
Hopes in their strength, this simple note:
That I am.
And so thee be.
Yes, love the world most dearly.
And spend prescious moments happily.
But always leave your cedar posts
…….. for your young others to see.
.
© 2014 John Allen Richter


Surviving

Sadness, tears, yesteryears,
missing long ago teddy bears.
Simpler times, simpler cares.
Life was love,
….. and Love
was a chocolate ice cream cone.

When did love become desire?
Her everything capturing me so?
Her scent now gone to memory,
her abscence only misery.
Yet my heart now pleads
for simpler times, before ago….

I want, I wish for a chocolate cone,
one as sweet as that dripping on my years.
But nigh, it shall never come.
She took my chocolate cones away……
And all the sweetness from my surviving days…

.

© 2014 John Allen Richter


A Very Rare Item Indeed

A pebble, among so many others.
A night, hidden by the darkness of life.
Your breath beside me,
’til death shall chide me,
and bring sweet passion to memories dear.

For in that wash of times,
beyond kaleidoscopes and chimes,
lives a beauty so calm,
within mem’ries of psalm,
that I shall always hold you near.

Do you not know, sweet Lee Anna,
that your pebble sparkles alone
in my sea of colorless blur?

Blessed you, dear one,
for this aged heart has lived its full
solely on the presence of yours.

Love is ‘ner a word to share
the lifetime of owed devotion.
Nay, ’tis mine to rest upon.
Close your eyes, dearest,
stretch your fingers through the stars
and touch my memory tonight.

.

© 2014 John Allen Richter

 A love poem, by me?…..  truly a rarer sight than Whitman’s thrush.   It then must not a love poem be, but rather an ode to the dearness of memory.  This one devoted to Lee Anna, a woman who long ago touched my heart and has been in my memory since…. 

A quick shout to friend and colleague Brian Miller, whose father has taken ill….  Thinking of you Brian…


The Blood Runs Dry

Only the morn clears
smoky fields as loathsome fog,
never lifting, never ending.
Steely eyes should cut the swath,
a body’s desire quite lost…
when stumbling on those
long covered in frost.
Cannons still echo through the hills,
battle cries oer the scattered souls,
those discarded dead and dying,
Lincoln’s mourn, nation’s crying.

What lord, this blood and mourning bought?
A thousand more years of blame,
as soulful hatred goes untamed.
When shall the blood run dry?

.

© 2014 John Allen Richter

 

 


Devil in Disguise

Your oaken pew defiles you,
your weekly visit a chore.
Words are only words, my friend.
Reciting them so much more.

And they will dig your grave,
and your pew will be their spade.
a thousand times you’ve prayed,
and this is what you said:

Forgive my trespasses Lord,
as I forgive others.

You shouldn’t have added that last part.
For your reward looks only toward –
That which is in your own heart.

When you came to believe that any other
was  worthy of your vile and hate,
you thusly sealed your own tomb
and with it a fiery eternal fate.

Has my name scorched your tongue?
Have you blasphemed my very soul?
Did you not understand?
That your trespasses dug your hole?

I have already forgiven your sins,
and all the world too.
So now your fate rests
solely upon you.

You can not serve two masters.
Reasoning hatred is the devil in disguise.
You can not see his sheeps clothing,
for sanctimony has covered your eyes.

.

© 2014 John Allen Richter